


That Butler, Domestic

by Idonquixote



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: A significant Lau and Ran-Mao subplot, Blood and Gore, Contracts everywhere, Crossover, Drama, Gen, Horror, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Shapeshifting, This crossover needed to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idonquixote/pseuds/Idonquixote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the opening of a pet shop in the East End coincides with a string of deaths in London's high circles, the Queen's watchdog is on the case. But facing off against the mysterious Count D may prove more than this little dog is ready to chew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the morning: Detecting

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently gotten into "Pet Shop of Horrors" and it fits surprisingly well with Kuro's storyline. I was prompted by PSoH mentioning that Count D had once sold an exotic bird to Victoria on behalf of a French Baron and that it created quite a stir. I decided to play with that stir here.
> 
> As much as it pains me to do it, I'll be using the original Count D (D's grandfather) instead of the D leading PSoH just to keep with its canon. Expect lots of trouble for Ciel and Sebastian. And lots of comparisons between the count and the butler.

The Earl Grey stood to the side, fighting to keep a scowl of boredom off his lips. Beside him, her Majesty’s attendants stood stone still, Victoria herself trailing down the carpeted path. And at the end of her path knelt the foreigner, his oriental robes folded elegantly about him, his head a cascade of smooth black.

Perched on his shoulder was the strangest bird the earl had ever seen. Large to a fault, its wings remained at rest, the plumage red and yellow in turn, as if the creature had come out of a painting made from golden flames.

“You are the count, I presume,” Victoria said warmly, giving him permission to rise with a gesture of her hand.

The foreigner stood, adding another delicate bow to her Majesty. He was pretty, Charles would give him that- smooth china skin, long straight lashes, golden amber eyes. _I hate him already_.

But it was not for the count that Victoria paused, a small gasp escaping her aging throat. Her eyes were stuck to the bird’s own beads.

“It is a gift, your majesty. On behalf of the Baron Montcroix, as he has promised,” the count said in a clipped accent. “He is a golden pheasant, hailing from my native China.”

“Why… this is-” Victoria said, at a loss somehow, “this is…”

Charles stared on uneasily. _It’s just a stupid bird._ It was bizarre, but nothing worth crying over and that seemed to be exactly what the queen was doing.

“Amazing,” Victoria concluded tearfully, “the Baron has my deepest gratitude.”

“I am glad he is to your Majesty’s liking.” The count met her eyes, then, those too-red lips curling even further, into a smile that both warmed and frightened. “I mean no disrespect. But if her Majesty would forgive my intrusion, there are three conditions the palace must agree to in order to care for him…”

* * *

_To my dear little boy,_

_You are no doubt aware of the newest trend in the gossip monger. You and I both know how many dismiss it as sensationalist nonsense, but I trust you would not be so quick to jump to conclusions._

_I will admit that Lord Ansbury’s death (the Times has written about it better than I could) left me most disturbed, and so soon followed by Lady Kensington and the Marquis Upperton. My, my, we just had tea with them last month. Surely you remember._

_It seems that all of these recent deaths have something to do with the animals they purchased. Lord Ansbury was reportedly found with his eyes gouged out by the very parakeet he kept, after all. The purchases come from a shop the Yard has traced to the East End- I have included the address._

_One Count D is the proprietor. He gave me Albert-that lovely pheasant- quite recently. Never mind what the press says; Albert and I are very happy together. But it seems my friend is selling more than friendly pets. Rumours of birds turning into women and dogs into children abound from his shop. Could it be narcotics? Slave trading? Or dare I say it, homicide?_

_I will rely on you for my answers, dear boy. And I entrust you with putting a stop to these crimes if they be so. Besides, I hear the Count is rather fond of teatime._

_Best wishes,_

_Victoria_

_P.S The count is a charming man: do not let appearances deceive you. I know you are made of stronger will than this, but I cannot help worrying for my little boy._

Setting the letter back aside, the young earl Phantomhive flicked his way through the attached news clippings, all mindless drivel for the masses. The boy reached for another biscuit from the plate on his work desk, lone eye never leaving the articles before him.

“You might want to pay more attention to this article, Sebastian,” Ciel quipped, “would teach you a thing or two about cats.”

Said butler was busy refilling his charge’s cup with tea- Oolong in the morning. Sebastian placed the pot back on its cart.

“Miss Rothchester died an honorable death, young master. One really could not ask for a better one.”

“Blanche Rothchester was torn to pieces by her cat, whereupon it feasted on her entrails.” Ciel huffed. “I’d hardly call that an ideal death.”

“The cat must have had her reasons.”

“Her? How would you- nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

Sebastian flashed his lord that infuriating smirk Ciel had come to know so well, and as always, the young master ignored him. Sipping his tea, the earl’s index finger tapped the second article.

“Carter Galashiels, aged twenty-seven years, the nephew of Viscount Handen. They say he married a woman last December. It was a bloody parrot- the fool fell in love with a _bird_.”

“And took his life soon after; yes, I know the story, young master. Finny has been raving about it for some time (too long in my opinion).”

“Even her majesty is inseparable from her new pet. Rumor has it Baron Montcroix is looking for power in England through that gift- ha, as if someone so low-ranked can infiltrate the palace with a bird.”  _Why she named it after her husband is beyond me._

Ciel looked back down at the articles, the accompanying images more than a little graphic. He pursed his lips in contemplation. “Either there are more perverts in London than I was aware of or… her majesty did say these pets take human form, whatever that means. Are demons the only things that can shapeshift?”

“The answer to that question would be too long for your trouble, my lord. But don’t forget how humans act-” the butler’s eyes slid toward Ciel’s eyepatch, the boy suppressing a shudder at the hint, “when placed in desperation.”

 _I should know. Bloody devil_. Ciel sighed. “Well, it looks like I have no choice. Put Lau on the phone. Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes, my lord.”

* * *

“Count D?” said the other line, Lau’s chippy tone accompanied by some strange noise in the background (which sounded suspiciously like giggling women). “It does sound familiar… let’s see, d, d, D-”

“He owns the pet shop in Limehouse,” Ciel interrupted. _I don’t have time for your games today._

“Oh! Yes, I know him, earl. Well, I’ve seen him around. Oh, Ran-mao!”

“What are you even doing!?” Ciel snapped.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, earl,” the other laughed. _Damn you!_

“Yes, Count D hasn’t crossed paths with my people yet. I intended to wait and see how his business fares. We met last Thursday, but it was more of a greeting than anything else. He’s been popular, you know.”

“His business is doing well, for some reason I can’t understand. You read the news, didn’t you?”

“Of course! The one with the cat was scary. I wouldn’t want to die like that.” _I didn’t ask you._

“I’m on orders to investigate the count. Do you think he has ties to other mobs?”

“He seems like a clean person to me. But he set up shop in the most dangerous part of that area- even I wouldn’t go there! And he did it overnight too. No warning. Just like that!”

“So it’s possible he has triad ties.”

“Very, very.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to look into his shop. Have you been there?”

“I’ve seen it from the outside. It’s nice, but I don’t think it’s as impressive as my establishment to be honest. Don’t tell him that though.”

“Are you free by noon?”

“We’ll have to let my party decide that.” Another set of strange giggles.

“Clear some time!” Ciel ordered, trying not to imagine what was happening on the other side of the line. “One last thing- do you know the count’s real name? What the D is for at least?”

“No idea. Sorry.”

“I’ll see you soon. We have a suspect to investigate by then.”

“Eh? Suspect? Who?”

“ _Goodbye, Lau_.”

“But who’s the suspect-”

Ciel hung up, resisting the urge to smack himself in the head. He glared up at Sebastian, the demon’s amusement plastered all over that pale face. “I take it that went well, young master?”

“As well as you’d expect. Fetch my cloak.” The boy smirked. “Count D will have a new customer today.”

* * *

“Count D is the suspect?” Lau gasped in surprise.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say for the past ten minutes,” the earl griped.

“Come to think of it, he is a shady person.”

“You just said he was clean!”

“Really?”

“You have to be doing this on purpose.”

At that, Lau gave a nonchalant shrug, serene smile in place. Ciel tsked and turned from him, casting his gaze out the carriage window, the squalor of Limehouse passing in view. The red and black buildings of opium dens, crimson lanterns, the ink of Chinese characters, and a myriad of foreign faces graced the glass panes.

“I heard there was a fight here last night,” Lau said, “such a shady place.”

“We’ll be fine. If you’re so worried, we have Sebastian.”

“At your service,” the butler added from his place beside the earl.

When the hansom stopped at last, Sebastian was the first to leave, opening the door and helping the earl step down. Lau followed suit and after the driver had been paid, the trio walked onwards.

Ciel had considered disguising himself as a more common boy, but better judgment took hold. The upper classes seemed obsessed with Count D’s pets and it would be best for Lord Phantomhive to act the part as well. Cane in hand and tall hat in place, he walked on in spite of the stares that followed his figure.

“‘Pet shop’- this must be it, earl,” Lau said, pointing at the horizontal sign strewn across what appeared to be a Chinese temple to Ciel.

In comparison with everything else in the area, it did look like a temple. Not a speck of dirt lined its shining red columns or the oriental windows. Even the creamy walls seemed to cast a heavenly shine. His eye darted toward the vertical sign hanging off of it- COUNT D’S.

“You’ll have to introduce us.”

“Not a problem.” And with that, Lau took the lead, hands folded behind his sleeves.

Ciel followed, glancing back at Sebastian. “What is it?”

“I was simply wondering if… no, it’s nothing, young master. Please carry on.”

“You better not be hiding anything from me.”

“I would never.” But that condescending smile said _I always do_.

* * *

The inside was no less impressive than the outside, and if it wasn’t so preposterous, Ciel would go as far as to say the shop was bigger on the inside, much roomier than he imagined. Paper lanterns lined the walls, delicate patterns carved here and there. Jade ornaments, Asiatic statues, velvet tresses were all about him, as was yellow and red, right down to the Persian rugs. Robins stood perched in bamboo cages.

“Ah, the smell of incense is strong here,” Lau commented, “very sweet.” Those eyes opened a fraction. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was the intoxicating scent of…”

“Beautiful,” Sebastian said, awestruck, “that fine coat, those amethyst eyes.”

“What are you on about?” Ciel turned to look, only to let out a yelp of surprise. What he had mistook for a stuffed figure was a real, breathing tiger, and it was currently being molested by his embarrassment of a butler.

His eye widened at the revelation. There were no stuffed figures—all the animals were _alive_. Eagles, penguins(!?), possums, raccoons, falcons, and-

The boy sneezed. How had he missed all those cats?

The sneeze recaptured Sebastian’s attention at least. The demon reluctantly left the tiger’s side to return to the human’s. He blinked in surprise at the animals.

“This is interesting,” he muttered, barely loud enough for Ciel to hear, “I’ve never seen anything of this sort before. I wonder if it’s the incense.”

“Hello, count!” Lau greeted.

The earl never got the chance to ask what Sebastian meant. Because another voice interrupted them.

“Welcome to Count D’s pet shop. Here, we sell anything you so desire.”

Ciel immediately looked up at him. _So this is Count D_.

He was the most beautiful Chinaman the boy had ever seen. No, he could very well be the most beautiful _man_ he had ever seen. There was a clouded radiance about him, one that made Sebastian’s beauty too shadowy in comparison. The only other figure that had ever exuded such radiance had been the Undertaker on that ship…

The count was dressed fit for an emperor and his features were chiseled to perfection, framed by silky dark hair. Bright golden eyes met Ciel’s blue, and the count’s mouth quirked into an expression far too familiar to the earl. _Do not fall for his charm, her majesty said_. But Ciel was no fool- his own demon had worn that smirk far too long.

“The little earl would like to buy a pet,” Lau said.

“Little wasn’t necessary,” Ciel hissed. He addressed the count. “I am Earl Phantomhive. This is my butler, and Lau is our friend. Do you have anything exotic? I only buy the best.”

“Welcome, earl,” D said with a polite bow, “we have many. Have you any preferences, Lord Phantomhive?”

“As long as it’s not a cat.” He sensed Sebastian tense at that.

“And this pet- you will agree to care for it until the contract’s end?” As polite and pleasant as the count’s voice was, Ciel picked up on a nasty undercurrent. _I’ll open you like a book, count._

“Contract?”

“Oh, you were not aware, earl?” The same disguised disdain.

“Would you care to explain?”

“I would… over tea.” The count’s expression lit up, for a moment, mirroring Sebastian’s face when it comes to cats. “It is teatime, after all. Come, earl- we’ll discuss then.”

* * *

The aroma of teacake and buttery desserts enticed Ciel more than he let on. Poison be damned, these sweets were _good_. If they did have to get rid of the count, Ciel would at least mourn the taste of these desserts.

“You don’t want any, butler?” Lau asked between bites of red bean custard.

“I shouldn’t presume,” Sebastian replied from his crouched spot, fondling several kittens, “and between the count and the young master… there doesn’t seem to be much of it left.”

Ciel was too distracted to chastise his butler. He must have cleared out an entire platter of those delicate treats, but it really felt like one bite, maybe two. Across, the count poured more tea from his porcelain pot, the china covered with intricate blue patterns.

“These are as good as Sebastian’s desserts,” Ciel remarked.

That perked the count’s interest. “Then would you consider a change in transaction?”

“How do you mean?”

“Have your butler make some for me as payment for your pet.”

“No money?”

“I would take a good sweet over money any day, Lord Phantomhive,” D said, dabbing at his mouth with a silk napkin, looking far too excited at this proposal.

“It’s done,” Ciel said.

D clasped a hand over his chest. “I do so look forward to it.”

His nails were long, razor and claw-like. Sharp. They could pierce skin if they so wished, just like those black nails that had cupped his cheeks so long ago. No, this was not the time for reminiscing.

But there was a sinking suspicion welling within the boy, that even their newfound bond over sweets couldn’t cover. That perhaps Count D was no more human than Sebastian…

"I'n curious, count," the boy said, "your title is European and yet you hail from China."

"Do tell," Lau added, "I'm rather curious too."

"It's nothing fantastic," was the calm response, "a European monarch bestowed it upon me some time ago and I have used it since. In this day and age, I've found its use to be rather convenient."

Ciel popped another miniature cake into his mouth.

“Now, let us discuss the contract,” D said. “It is a lease all my customers sign, pledging their responsibility, you could say.”

Ciel smiled. “Contracts, eh? Those, I am far too familiar with.”

The count stood. “Then, earl, if you would come with me. I do believe I have just the thing for you in the back.”

“Sebastian-”

D glanced at the butler. “No, you come alone.”

Sebastian set the cat in his hands down. “My lord?”

“I’ll be fine. Wait here with Lau.”

“Very good, sir.”

Ciel stood and followed the count’s lead, noting Sebastian’s unsettled gaze on their backs. When they reached the threshold of the backroom, D’s eyes fell on Ciel, catlike and waiting.

“But I must warn you, earl,” he said darkly, “should you violate any of the contract’s terms, we cannot be held liable for the consequences.”

One promise after another, bit by bit until Ciel Phantomhive had nothing left to give. When one’s soul had already been forfeited, a body already wrapped in thorns, there was nothing more to be ransomed. And he knew all too well the consequences of breaking a contract, of the harsh burning pain and eternal fear as obvious as the mark on his right eye.

“I don’t intend to,” Ciel stated.


	2. At noon: Domino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the encouragement! I've finally finished chapter 2 and here it is. The dominoes of our plot fall in place and everyone continues to underestimate everyone else. I hope you enjoy this chapter too! There is an original character this time, though- hope you find him somewhat entertaining.

A dark corridor stretched before them, lit by dim red lanterns and carpeted with smooth oriental patterns. The count led Ciel through the hall, turning here and there past folded doors and sanguine shadows. There was a light flutter of robes as the Chinaman walked, the paths seeming to brighten with each step he took. In contrast, Ciel found the shadows behind them growing like black vines. When it seemed that they had finally reached one corner, the hall gave way yet again.

And very soon, Earl Phantomhive knew he was lost.

“It’s like a maze,” he heard himself say.

“Oh, one gets used to it with time, Lord Phantomhive,” D replied with that airy voice.

 _Was it this large on the outside? This establishment would need to be the size of two townhouses to accommodate all this._ Ciel failed to recall passing into a basement at any point. No, they were still on ground level. He resisted the urge to call for Sebastian, but he did not resist the urge to reach for his handgun.

“Count, I never did ask you. What business does Baron Montcroix have with her majesty? I am mighty curious.”

“Curiosity is always an interesting quality in children.” D turned to smile at him with a surprisingly devilish curve of the lips. “I take it you are asking of my pheasant. The Baron is an aging man- his thoughts are very different from a child’s, freshly sprung and eager to climb. In contrast, an old human is filled with regret and lost chances, lost loves even. When he came to me, he was in poor health. Among his final wishes was a selfless one—he simply wanted the happiness of a woman he once loved.”

 _A baron in love with a queen_. Ciel held back a snort.

“So he sent you?”

“I was on my way to London anyway. I had stayed in Paris long enough. Delivering Albert for him was nothing more than a humble detour.”

“I see.”

New suspicions were forming in the earl’s mind- something about the count’s words told him London itself was another detour. And if he had no intention of staying, what was there to prevent a killing spree, however he did it?

“And here we are. Please take a look, Lord Phantomhive, and see if it is what you desire.”

The count turned the knob of a wooden door, delicate and yet woefully simple compared to the other rooms in the hall. He stepped aside and beckoned for Ciel to enter. With a final glance at D, the boy went in, a new wave of incense attacking his nostrils, and under that scent was the dim trace of an unpleasant odor- familiar, but what, Ciel knew not.

Scrunching his nose, he saw the incense burner lying on a circular table in the middle of the room, silver but otherwise unassuming. Ahead was a chaise lounge, and on it was a shrouded figure, too large to be an animal.

“What is this?” Ciel asked, voice harsher than he intended, “what are you trying to sell me?”

“I only sell three things,” D said, coming to stand by the figure, “love, hope, and dreams, in a package that can satisfy any man, no matter his age, his race, or his wealth.”

Still keeping that foxy smile, the count pulled back the shroud, his long nails barely raking the silk. Ciel froze, blinking twice to make sure he had not imagined the sight.

“ _What is the meaning of this?_ ” he demanded.

It was a human, an adolescent little younger than Edward and little older than Ciel himself. He sat poised with legs crossed, olive skin naked save the cloth robes wrapped about his body, leaving a good portion of bare shoulder and chest. A wild ruffle of black hair surrounded his head and yellow owlish eyes stared into Ciel’s own, unflinching and calculated.

“He’s taken quite a liking to you, earl,” D said, leaning down to stroke the youth’s face while casting Ciel an amused glance.

The boy felt a rising anger within him, subdued by thin panic. The thought of another human being, stripped and lost, forced from the hands of one customer to another- his own flesh sullied, the bars of a cage, watching the knife come down-

“Seb-”

“Your butler can’t hear you from here,” the count interrupted, “this is a private room. I assure you that I sell pets and pets alone.”

 _You perverted bastard._ “This has been going on since you first came, hasn’t it? Slavery is illegal under her majesty’s jurisdiction.”

Ciel was about to whip the gun out, when in a flurry of motion, he found his wrist in the grip of the olive youth’s. Birdlike eyes continued to bore into his own.

“You must relax,” the youth told him, his voice low and accented.

When the crushing grip released him, the gun clattered to the floor.

“Surely the Queen’s pet dog understands how to care for his own pets,” D quipped from the side.

“You knew, then,” Ciel said, “so what do you intend to do with me now?”

“Do with you? I merely want to sell you something you desire.” The count came to rest his hand on the youth’s shoulder, “Kiki is a North African owl and he has chosen you as his owner, Lord Phantomhive.”

“Owl? Please!”

“Yes, an owl!”

“Fine, have it your way, _count_ ,” the boy growled, “but before we do any business, I’d like to return to our companions in the front.”

“Very well then. Come.”

D turned back toward the door, Kiki following. When it opened, Ciel found himself back in the front, Sebastian and Lau sitting on the storefront chairs. _What happened to that maze of his!?_

“Are you all right, young master?” Sebastian asked, clearly entertained, “you appear a bit frazzled.”

Ciel opted to ignore him. Instead, he turned toward D and snapped. “How did you do this? I walked through three separate corridors with you and this door clearly led in, not out! And that pet of yours, how dare you-”

“That’s a creepy owl,” Lau piped in, hugging his own arms in emphasis, “are you sure you want to buy that one, earl?”

_Owl?_

“I am sure this is the right pet for Lord Phantomhive,” D insisted.

“That’s a person!” Ciel cried.

“Eh?” Lau stroked his chin in confusion.

“Sebastian, look at it!”

“The Count is correct, my lord. It is indeed an owl.” The smug tone alerted Ciel that something was indeed very wrong. _Then could it be?_

“May I accompany you from now on, master?” Kiki asked.

“Even its hoots are eerie,” Lau said immediately.

Ciel swallowed his reply and looked at Kiki. He-it?- seemed sincere enough. His eye darted from Kiki to D to Sebastian and back. He supposed he would have to figure out what was going on somehow.

“How much is he worth, count?” the boy asked at last, defeated.

“For you, Lord Phantomhive, we will offer a free trial. Then we can barter the price. But you must agree to the terms of our contract. You may sign in a moment.”

At Ciel’s silence, the count continued. “One: you must feed him nothing but dead rats and water, two: you will keep his cage unlocked at all times, and three: you must take his secrets to the grave.”

D’s eyes narrowed. “Do you agree to these terms, Lord Phantomhive? They are non-negotiable.”

 _I have agreed to worse terms, count_. Ciel glared at him.

“I do.”

A smirk passed between the count’s lips before it was instantly replaced by a shining smile. With a chuckle of pure delight, D made his way toward a drawer in the corner.

“Wonderful, earl! Then let us make Kiki yours immediately!”

A more malicious chuckle drew Ciel’s attention. He glared daggers at Sebastian, but the demon was too caught in covering his mouth to be fazed. Something was not right and he would force Sebastian to tell him, one way or another.

“Ah, here we are. Your signature please, Lord Phantomhive,” D said, returning with a scroll of parchment and quill, “and don’t forget our agreement- I am rather looking forward to your butler’s sweets.”

“We never break our promises.” Ciel signed. “Isn’t that right, Sebastian?”

“Yes, my lord,” the demon answered, coming to stand behind the earl.

As Sebastian replaced the boy’s hat and cloak, Ciel beckoned for Kiki to follow them. The owl(?) was all too happy to oblige. “Then our business ends for today, Count D.”

“It was a pleasure, Lord Phantomhive.”

“Count, I have one last question,” Lau asked, leaving his chair at last, grey eyes revealed, “it really does bother me…”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re not a woman?”

“Get out.”

 _There’s one more thing we have in common._ Ciel left the store with a less than sincere smile, his _pets_ by his side.

* * *

“Get it away from us, says Wordsworth,” Snake said, an embarrassed blush touching his cheeks.

“Awfully big critter,” Bard said, reaching to pet the owl’s feathers, only to quickly retract his hand when it threatened to bite.

“Is it really an owl?” Mey-rin asked excitedly as she adjusted her glasses, leaning a little too closely to the owl’s face.

“Can we take care of it, young master?” Finnian asked, no less enthusiastic.

And yet all the young earl saw was his servants excitedly prodding at a half-nude young man in the Phantomhive foyer. Sebastian coughed to get their attention.

“Kiki is a rare Gambian owl and he is to be the young master’s newest pet. You lot are not to antagonize him, understand? (Of course, Mr. Sebastian!) We will feed him dead rats (Rats!?), so the snakes may find themselves sharing their food supply.”

“Why do we have to suffer for that monster, says Goethe? No, it’s fine, says Emily.” Snaked looked at odds with his own pets, but the look on the footman’s face was nowhere near satisfied.

“These are the terms and that’s final,” Ciel said, “Sebastian, let’s set ‘Kiki’ up. Come.”

The others moved to follow, but a glare from the butler froze their tracks. There was more than enough room in the Phantomhive greenhouse for the owl to roam. Sebastian had fetched several of the late Lady Phantomhive’s old canary cages and fashioned them together to create a new dwelling. The cage stood over four feet, furnished with lovely steel curls and carvings of blooming flowers, painted white from top to bottom. Ciel was not impressed—he was rather annoyed that Sebastian made such a simple task so complicated but at least the demon had bothered to decorate it to the point where it appeared to be more of a statue than a cage.

“I suppose we could instruct Finny to replenish its nutrients in the afternoons,” Sebastian remarked, tapping the bars of the cage.

It was such a large cage… one could stick a hand through those bars… a child’s…

“Are you well, master?” Kiki asked, his deep voice startling Ciel.

The boy swallowed- there was no room for such weakness here, especially with that blasted devil around.

“I’m fine.” Ciel gestured at Sebastian’s handiwork, shafts of light streaming in from the glass and complimenting the white cage. “Kiki, is this satisfactory?”

“I will be comfortable,” the youth(?) replied.

“Good. Now,” Ciel said, turning to Sebastian again, “this is an order. Explain to me what in the world happened at Count D’s.”

“Oh, the young master still hasn’t figure it out?”

“ _Now_.”

“Very well.” Sebastian’s brows arched in that insulting manner. “There is nothing out of the ordinary about the animals displayed, but it seems the storefront itself gives them the ability to appear human.”

“As in shapeshifting? I find that hard to believe.”

“Stubborn as always, my lord ( _just get on with your explanation!_ ). Yes… and no. Those creatures do not have the ability to change their appearance- rather, it is the Count that has the ability to reveal their appearance, in a form you would call ‘humanoid.’ It is something I have never witnessed either. I will add that the Count himself is not human, though he is nothing I’m familiar with as of yet.”

Sebastian cast an open palm at Kiki. “Whatever skill the Count used, it seems that your new pet only appears in this form to you, my lord- Kiki is, in effect, cloaked as an owl to all other mortal eyes.” He put emphasis on the word _mortal_.

“You’re wrong,” Kiki said, startling Ciel yet again.

“Is that so?” Sebastian asked, an unspoken hostility suddenly between demon and pet.

“The count did not reveal me to my master. I did. I chose him, as he did me, and that is why only he can see me in this form.” Then, Kiki had come to rest both hands on the earl’s shoulders- heavy hands.

“Or so it appears.” The demon’s bitterness was not lost in his voice, something straddling the lines between resentment and possessiveness.  But as Ciel expected, the butler façade resumed. Sebastian bowed.

“Then, Kiki, I beseech you step into the cage. The young master must be on with his day.”

Kiki quietly stepped into the cage, unblinking eyes trained on Sebastian in much the same way a bird eyed a worm. In return, the demon narrowed his reddening eyes. And Ciel found himself turning away from both, the unpleasant scent from earlier filling his nostrils once more.

He knew what it was now.

That smell had surrounded him for one month, had once surrounded him in the Atlantic, and sometimes haunted his dreams. It was the stench of decay. It was the smell of death.

* * *

With Kiki (hopefully) out of earshot, Ciel paced in his own study, gracelessly biting into a scone out of frustration. Sebastian may have admonished him at some point, but Ciel really didn’t care.

“We can rule out slavery,” Ciel said, “whatever Count D sells, we can be sure they’re not human.” He paused. “But that also complicates matters.”

“How so, young master?” Sebastian placed a gloved finger to his own chin, giving off the semblance of thinking.

“I believe both you and Kiki are correct. The Count may have some supernatural ability involved and the animals themselves as well- the animals are the ones who pick their owners. But they are just animals at the end of the day, primitive beasts with the instinct of beasts.”

“And humans are much better?”

Ciel ignored him. No, humans were by far even worse. He thought of the victims, Galashiels, Kensington, Rothchester, Upperton, Ansbury- from what he knew of them in his circles, half were vain, corrupt individuals and the other half were lonely, validation-seeking things. Yes, the count and his pets must have been aware of each individual’s quirks.

“But what could the count possibly gain from these murders?” Ciel mused, “or his animals for that matter. Could he be doing this for fun? Or is there another goal in mind?”

“Perhaps it’s simpler than you think, young master. You yourself said the animals are just beasts. Now, what is it that beasts do?” The butler’s tone lowered. “You once accused me of doing the same. Surely you are well-versed in a beast’s mentality by now.”

It clicked. He remembered images of a dancing demon, blood all around, himself too numb to register the mindless carnage. He remembered the countless ways Sebastian had caressed his eye and stared like a hungry vulture. In many ways, that was the one thing he would admit to fearing about the demon because it was a state he could not understand.

“A beast kills because it can. There is predator and there is prey.”

Illusions can be made and the prey can fight back, but the world of the beast was something that could never be changed.

“And that is a fact which will never change,” Sebastian said, Ciel’s neck pricking involuntarily.

“No, it won’t,” the boy agreed.

He was prey and his right eye was reminder enough.

“Now it comes back to the Count. What is he?”

“That, I am still trying to figure out.”

“When you bring him his pudding tomorrow, I expect you know the answer by then. Do not disappoint me, Sebastian.”

“Yes, my lord.”

* * *

Tanaka was instructed to feed Kiki that night- Ciel couldn’t help but imagine the youth’s mouth dribbling with the blood of dead rats. He couldn’t shake the image of Kiki standing in that cage, waiting _waiting_ for his master to return. Ciel would have to see him as soon as day broke.

_These thoughts surfaced from the back of his mind and swarmed him as he slept, tossing and turning in the sheets. Count D’s smug countenance flashed by, as did Sebastian’s burning eyes. Perhaps he did drink too much tea that day, perhaps the count’s snacks were poisoned, perhaps it was all nothing more than a dream, perhaps he was overworked, perhaps…_

_He was hurt, he was dirty, he was scared. Bruised and covered in soot, the boy struggled to run, malnourished limbs held in place by heavy shackles. He struggled until steel cut into his wrists and ankles, the blood trickling in thick beads._

_Where was he?_

_Cackling voices surrounded him. He looked- shadows everywhere, a dark forest, a burning home in the distance. It was an English home and the fire hurt his eyes._

_But the trees- they were foreign. He had never seen these trees before._

_Help me! Please, somebody, anybody!_

_Thorns littered the ground, in place of grass and his small body was dragged through them as he tried to escape the chains. He groaned as his skin was grazed and pricked, rivulets of blood covering his broken body._

_A noble mark for a noble beast!_

_Shadowy hands pressed him down, one eye stabbed with thorns. The blood was everywhere, in his mouth, in his nose, and the pain was searing- the poker was held against his side. He screamed._

_Help me! Please! Help me! Mother! Father!_

_Ahead, he saw their burnt corpses, hung from a single rope among the great trees. And those hands continued to touch him, poking, hitting, defiling- he sobbed. The hands gave away to tendrils that held him in place, wrapping around him like living vines, squeezing the very life out of him._

_I pity everyone who had to endure your boring existence!_

_He knew that voice. It was going to kill him. It was going to tear him apart. It was going to leave him with nothing, nothing…_

_Black feathers rained down and the glowing, burning crimson gaze of a raven fell on him. The giant bird swooped down and he could do nothing but watch. But he was pulled away, wrists and ankles thin enough to slip away from the chains, the tendrils losing their grip._

_The burning house was nothing in the shadows, the trees gnarled and darkened against a starry sky. In place of thorns was dry short grass and he was on his back, the hooting of an owl nearby. Behind him, great wings fluttered, having carried him away from the raven…_

Ciel rocketed up, hair damp with sweat and heart threatening to burst from his ribcage. It took him a moment to realize he was hyperventilating. Nausea gripped him. The boy clutched at his sheets, the sweat from his palms immediately seeping into them.

Nightmares were nothing new for Earl Phantomhive, but one of such caliber was something he hadn’t had to deal with for quite some time. He considered calling for Sebastian, but the memory of the raven paralyzed him. _Ciel doesn’t want pain anymore._

He pulled the gun out from under his pillow instead. He pressed the cool steel against his face. Ciel tried to calm his shaking- in a daze, he could end up shooting himself, one bullet clean through the head, and it would all be over- no, no! Such thoughts made no sense.

Disoriented, Ciel stepped out of bed, nearly collapsing in the effort. The curtains were billowing. Hadn’t Sebastian shut them? Cradling the gun, Ciel walked toward the window- it was open and chilly wind was blowing into his room.

There was an owl hooting from the outside and a few branches shook. Ciel looked down into the gardens, catching a glimpse of unruly hair and bare skin. _Kiki_.

An owl had saved him in the dream.

* * *

“Count, are you here?” Lau called, the doors of the pet shop shutting behind him, the first rays of morning light still struggling to climb into the store.

He turned to the young woman clutching his arm. “Ranmao, we’re going to meet someone very important today.”

“Mm.” Ranmao’s approval of his plan did not go unnoticed. Lau gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Between her bundled breasts was a narrow silk-wrapped package. Well, the count did say he was a man.

“Oh, it’s you again, Master Lau?”

The count’s voice was no less smooth and mocking in mandarin than it was in English.

“I’d like to establish better relations with you, count.” And with that, Lau invited himself to sit on one of the count’s chairs, Ranmao on his lap. The count appeared mildly irritated, though it didn’t last long.

“It is a pleasure.” D bowed. He came to stand over the couple. “And your companion is- ?”

“This is Ranmao. She’s very pleased to meet you, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, pleased to meet you, count,” Ranmao said in that small way of hers before standing and showing her chest to the count. D only blinked.

“We brought you a gift. Tucked away right there- Ranmao has the best ideas!”

“Master Lau-”

“I said, ‘did you know Count D is a man?’ and she said ‘no’ so of course we came up with a way to please you. Ranmao believes any redblooded man would be surprised at her methods.”

“I really have no interest in human flesh.”

“You see, we have no intention of mistaking you for a woma- eh?”

“Though I do thank you for the gift.”

Taking the small package out, D was careful to avoid Ranmao’s generous bosom, as if it would contaminate him. He then unwrapped the silk with those long nails, gracefully doing away with the wrapping. A handsome pipe remained, western in shape and oriental in design.

“Welcome to London, Count D,” Lau said, slightly disappointed.

“Welcome,” Ranmao chimed.

D smiled charmingly, tucking the pipe into his robes. “It is very generous of you. You have my sincerest gratitude. Now, Master Lau, you say your companion is named Ranmao?”

“That’s right.”

The count put a hand on Ranmao’s silky head, fingers delicately brushing against the brooch in her hair. “Blue Cat, how fitting…”

And just as he anticipated, Lau could see the count was taken with Ranmao’s charm. He allowed himself a triumphant smirk. Arranging his own sleeves, he revealed his actual intent. “Would you care to discuss business with us? I know our trade has little to do with a pet shop, but it could prove useful in the long run. You and I are not so different, no?”

The look D cast him was rather condescending. “We both left our country and started business in foreign lands. But I am afraid that is where our similarities end. That, and I suppose… our fondness for cats.”

His fingers raked through Ranmao’s hair and for a moment, Lau was worried his nails would cut into her scalp. But Ranmao seemed to enjoy the movement. The count seemed to enjoy it a little too much.

Lau’s smirk fell. When it came to customers, D always wore a smile, one that was sickeningly charming, along with an overall deceptive air to his smug countenance. But Lau had seen D with sweets and he had seen him with the pets. With food, it was pure delight. With animals, D’s face was something akin to tenderness, a loving strange tenderness.

And that was the face he wore while fondling Ranmao. _I thought he didn’t care for human flesh?_

“I don’t own any cats,” Lau told him.

“Then it’s just as well.” The count stooped to inhale a whiff of Ranmao’s scent, two felines gathering at their feet, meowing for D’s attention.

“We’re rather busy today. There is some unfinished business to take care of. Though I would love to hear an answer from you, count.” Lau got to his feet, walking a little too quickly toward Ranmao than he would have liked.

“My answer is no but you are welcome to visit again, Master Lau.”

As Lau pulled Ranmao away, her golden eyes strangely dazed, D flashed the pair a parting smile. “So long as you remember to bring your beautiful companion- _Ranmao_.”

* * *

Ciel stood behind Finnian, watching the gardener and the footman dump rats at the owl’s feet, Snake eyeing Kiki warily. Instead of rushing to find the owl at daybreak, Ciel opted to continue life as normal- the answers would come in time- rushing would solve nothing. But the fatigue told him he was still quite shaken from his nightmare.

“Here, eat up, Kiki,” Finnian said brightly, petting the owl on the head, only to have the latter glare at him. With a gulp, Finnian stepped back.

Ciel was called back into the world of the waking when Snake cried out. Kiki had pounced on the footman, evident hunger in his eyes. For a second, Ciel froze- Kiki didn’t look like an owl or a man as he threatened Snake. His eyes were locked on a target and the expression was that of a beast going in for the kill. He was going to tear the footman apart. Before Kiki could dive at the snakes on the ground, Ciel had wedged himself between the bodies.

“Kiki, stop!”

There was no fight. The pet simply stopped, enough time for Snake to crawl away and get back onto his feet. Finnian was there to support him.

“Lock the cage, says Emily. He wants to eat us, says Goethe, the bastard wants to eat us.”

“Language.” Ciel sighed, “There will be no eating my servants, Kiki. That’s an order. You leave the snakes be.”

The only reply was the sound of Kiki’s tongue licking his lips. He really _was_ going to eat Snake. But the owl nodded, however reluctant.

“And Snake, I can’t lock the cage.” That would violate the contract. “You and Finny- go see if Sebastian’s done in the kitchen yet. I’ll be out in a tick.”

“We can’t leave you with that, says Oscar!”

“Snake, _go_.”

“Young master-”

“You too, Finny.”

When he was sure the servants were out of earshot, Ciel eyed Kiki. “You were in my room last night, weren’t you?”

“I was, master.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.”

“I had a nightmare.”

“Because of _him_.” _Him_ came out with a malice Ciel had yet to hear from the owl.

“There are many factors to my nightmares. Your beloved Count was one of them as well.”

“Please don’t compare the count to _him_.”

“Hmph, I’d never compare a nobleman to a servant.” Ciel was about to chuckle at his own joke, but Kiki failed to see the humor.

“ _He_ would have laughed. I will not.”

“Nevermind that. You were in my dreams.” The boy nervously looked around, some paranoid fear that Sebastian was chuckling around the corner. But the demon was nowhere to be found. “Kiki, this is an order- from now on, you will prevent all my nightmares.”

The owl suddenly grasped Ciel’s hands in his own and the earl realized he lacked the strength to pull out of that grip.

“I will, master. Forevermore if you so wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And kudos/comments are more than welcome.


	3. In the afternoon: Deranged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, I've finally updated this fic! This is the longest chapter yet and I hope it was worth the wait- we're heading to the climax now! A huge thanks to everyone that's reviewed this story and pushed me to continue- the support really means a lot and I'm eternally grateful to everyone who chose to wait for this update.

The Earl Grey sighed yet again, a habit he had fallen into with surprising frequency over the past month. Before him and Earl Phipps, John Brown tended to the various scratches on his own face, red and raw.

“Can’t we just gut the damn bird?” Grey muttered. Brown had tried to pry the pheasant off her majesty and the task had achieved nothing save a marred face.

“Have you tried showing her Albert?” Phipps asked, the three now huddled outside the queen’s chambers.

Brown reached into his pocket and pulled out the sock designed to resemble the late prince. He shook his head with no small amount of sadness. “Her Majesty has a new Albert now.”

With another sigh, Grey pushed open the queen’s door by a fraction, making sure not to let loose a single noise. Her bulbous form sat in a chair by the window, overshadowed with light, and on her arm, the Chinese pheasant sang.

“Oh, Albert,” he heard her whisper, “you say the nicest things.”

 _Damn bird_.

* * *

He shivered, allowing one eye to open as the first rays of soft sunlight crept in through the curtains. Lau pulled off the silk covers, feeling amiss- ah yes, the warm weight that had been on his left arm the night prior. He sat up, a dim growl emitting from his exposed torso.

Congee for breakfast flashed through his mind. Unless Ranmao had other ideas.

“Ranmao?” His voice still dry.

Lau slid off the bed’s edge, stepping past the cushions littered on the ground. He scratched his chin. Perhaps he would be eating alone in the morning.

Grabbing a robe he’d thrown on the chaise lounge, he exited the room, and was greeted with the familiar scent of faint incense and poppy. Muffled snoring told him some _patrons_ had chosen to spend the night. He poked his head into the room adjacent to the corridor.

“Ranmao?”

Angled cheeks, a slight tan, dark brown eyes.

“Do I look like Ranmao to you?” the girl shot at him, brush caught in her hair.

“Xiao Hong, you seen Ranmao?”

She shook her head, turning back to the mirror. “Wait. Lau, I need more money.”

“We’ll discuss that later.” It came out colder than he intended, or perhaps not cold enough.

“Lau!”

“ _Later_!”

Xiao Hong might have called his name again but he was in no mood to fret over employees. If she chose to attack him later- well, he hadn’t thought that far. It’d be hard to deal with a “strike” without his right hand around, but he supposed he would have to hold his own. It was quite clear Ranmao was nowhere in the den and he had a feeling he knew why.

Now, where was his pipe?

* * *

_Count D stood in a field of black cranes, a damp marsh dirtying his fine robes. Then the man turned and his golden eyes flashed red, Sebastian’s tongue licking bloodied lips. From under his robes, Ciel crawled out, suddenly overwhelmed by the size of the sky._

_D- no, Sebastian- leaned down and gripped him, claws sinking into the boy’s shoulders. He cried in pain as the demon feasted upon him, the jaded faces of his parents watching from the distance._

_A great owl flew up from between them and instinctively, Ciel reached a bloodied hand towards it. With a mighty cry, its talons lifted him out of the demon’s grip. Sebastian melted into a shadowy pool and Ciel clung gratefully to the owl._

_It flew him into a tiny hut, far from the humid marshland and let him warm himself by the fire while it cleaned and bandaged him. Ciel held the owl’s giant wing._

_“Thank you,” he heard himself say._

_“Anything for you, master,” it hooted._

_Master. It sounded right coming from the owl’s beak. Yes, this he would allow. He let the owl wrap its wings around him, taken in by the warmth._

_“You are afraid.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You fear your undoing at his hand.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And yet you need him.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I am here now. He cannot hurt you.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Then let me stay, master. Send him away and let be stay by your side.”_

_He wanted to. He wanted to but-_

_“You do not have to decide now. Sleep, master,_ _and know that you are safe.”_

And Earl Phantomhive slept on, lightly snoring through a pleasant dream.

* * *

Ciel skimmed through the reports, paging through the packet in his hands with still fingers. The autopsies hinted at no foulplay—the victims had indeed died at the hands, or rather claws and teeth, of their pets.

“These surgeons must work on their penmanship; it’s absolutely dreadful,” he remarked, setting down the pages on his lap.

The boy yawned, a pair of familiar hands running a comb through his silky hair. His butler, ever careful to routine, proceeded to kneel and unbutton his nightwear, gloved hands momentarily touching bare skin.

“Are you still keen on breakfast, my lord? You appear a little pale,” Sebastian said with an arrogantly humble arch of the brow.

The shirt slid off his shoulders. As the butler replaced it with proper attire, Ciel elected not to entertain him with an answer. The descriptions in the press were rather gory- “ _Rothchester was found eviscerated in the kitchen, her limbs all but torn off, and chewed intestines oozing from her mangled torso, her skin marred with the work of claws. It is a sight most unfitting for the faint and a perverted murder not seen since the Ripper_ ”- and the hospital reports were no less so- “ _chewed spleen, ripped stomach, lungs ruptured through sharp implements, unlike any knife known to man_.” But if Sebastian expected these to nauseate him, the demon was to be disappointed.

“These confirm nothing. Pity we went through all the trouble of obtaining them.”

“It was hardly any trouble, young master. Good Doctor Simmons only has your best interests at heart, or rather-”

“Madame Red’s,” Ciel finished softly, a phantom pain lodging itself within. A human pain that he had no use for. Instead he scoffed, to the demon’s amusement. No, he would not be Sebastian’s plaything, especially in matters as _private_ as this.

“Remind me to send him the Funtom basket in the afternoon- his children will enjoy that. If anything, it will condition him to cooperate even more in the future.”

“Farseeing as always, my lord.”

Ciel kicked the covers off and swung his legs to the side, Sebastian catching one foot and slipping a knee-high sock over it.

“We’re hardly done. Galashiels’ report was more interesting than the rest in how boring it was. The fool consumed a bowl of cyanide, but the report confirmed a weak heart.”

“What do you propose, sir?”

“A visit to that apothecary. Then a round into Galashiels’ own residence. And lastly… a visit to the count.”

Sebastian finished looping the final lace on Ciel’s shoe and the boy was soon on his feet.

* * *

Butler and master were greeted by the gardener’s sobbing face as soon as they descended the stairs. Finnian’s emerald eyes shone with a waterfall of tears, and his blubbery speech did nothing to detract from his general distress.

“It- it was horrible, young master!” Finnian cried, “I- I was too late, I couldn’t save them-”

Ciel kept his mouth set in a line when Sebastian stepped between them, effectively catching Finnian before he could throw himself at the earl’s feet.

“What are you babbling about?” the butler asked, or rather, demanded.

“Mr. Sebastian, it was terrible!”

“A massacre!” a third voice added, “says Goethe.”

Snake rounded the end of the hall and came to Finnian’s side, standing awkwardly beside Sebastian. The footman’s scaled face was flushed, bits of pink and green mixing on his pale skin.

“A massacre? In my home?” Ciel ventured to ask, tone even.

_“Master, will you punish me?”_

Ciel felt his shoulders involuntarily rise. His newest pet wandered toward the staircase, likely from the parlor. Kiki walked with a slow, dignified gait, his large eyes never leaving his master’s face.

“Mr. Sebastian!” Finnian said again, instinctively burying himself in the butler’s chest upon seeing the owl.

“Kiki… what happened?” Ciel inquired.

Snake’s eyes were downcast, his own pets congregating at his shoulders, overlapping hisses doing nothing to faze the newcomer.

“I fed. The crows had come into your garden. They dared to sit on your family’s graves.”

“I let him out his cage for a little bit- he looked so unhappy- I didn’t know he’d go off like this-” Finnian rambled, blissfully unaware of who Ciel had really directed the question at.

Kiki rubbed the corner of his mouth with a thumb, the digit coming away with a dark stain. Blood. And a glint of satisfaction in the owl’s watchful eyes.

“Don’t let him near Smile, says Oscar.”

Kiki turned his head Snake’s way and the latter immediately stiffened. Ciel had no desire to see a repeat of yesterday’s debacle. If Kiki was fed, then he’d leave the footman alone for the time being. But the sense of unease continued to creep within the boy. He found himself walking towards his pet.

“Be careful, young master!” Finnian called.

_You ate the crows._

Ciel put a hand on Kiki’s bare arm, the familiar stench of death enveloping him.

“Control yourself, Finny. Sebastian and I will take Kiki for a walk today. Some pets need more house training than others.”

_You ate them for me._

He felt Kiki lower his forehead, the ragged hair brushing against Ciel’s own. He thought of the proverbial Eden and the snake that had wandered in. There was once such a garden in his own home, locked away in the confines of his damned soul. And there, the crows had landed and marked him for their own.

Ciel cast a glance at Sebastian, who was trying to pry Finnian off his person.

“No crow nor raven shall harm you, master,” Kiki muttered, “never again.”

And Ciel could have sworn the demon froze at his words.

* * *

He had waited long enough. Ranmao had not returned, and Lau suspected she had no intention of doing so either or perhaps could not. _That’s a troublesome turn_. He took another whiff of the pipe, Count D’s handsome visage in the forefront of his mind.

The den’s women lay strewn across the wooden benches, relaxed on a slow day, their normally jovial faces rendered neutral with no one to impress. He held XiXi’s limp wrist, the girl regarding him with curious brown eyes, thin legs crossed.

“Where’s big sister?”

“I don’t know.”

“We should go find her. I know how you get without big sister.”

He chose to ignore the comment. Lau looked through the window, patterns of light streaming through umber red.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” he said at last.

* * *

E.M Smithers had the nervous habit of wiping his perpetually dirtied spectacles, the earl soon realized, since the gent hadn’t looked up at the duo even once during their entire conversation, a droll waste of half an hour.

“I don’t know anything, mister- sir, earl,” Smithers said rubbing one lens with a handkerchief he’d produced from his pocket twenty minutes prior.

Sebastian maintained a polite smile, one that veered dangerously into smirking territory, either amused by Smithers’ unease or Ciel’s growing agitation. For all intents and purposes, it was a normal apothecary’s shop, vials and jars filed in neat rows on shelves and cabinets.

“My, that’s a contradictory statement,” the butler said, “did you not say Mr. Galashiels walked in last Friday?”

“He bought nothing. I said nothing- I don’t know,” Smithers said, moving on to the next lens, his graying mustache twitching under the pressure, his already hunched back arching even lower.

It all came across as incredibly pathetic to Ciel. He crossed his arms, cloak shifting with the movement.

“If you can remember all that, then you must know something at the very least,” Sebastian said, lowering himself to Smithers’ level. The demon held his gaze. “I assure you, no harm will come from your cooperation. But if you choose to withhold information from my master…”

A gloved hand picked up the bottle on Smithers’ table, _Pemberton’s French Wine Coca_ , unopened and tight.

“You imported this from Atlanta? In the midst of their politics, no less. Must have fetched quite a sum…”

Without a second thought, Sebastian released it. Smithers reacted in horror, lunging forward and snatching the tonic before it smashed.

“Now tell us, Mr. Smithers, what did Mr. Galashiels require of you?” the butler asked. The devil smirked. “There are plenty of bottles in here, two of us, and one of you.”

Smithers nodded frantically. “Stop! Please, I understand. I’ll tell, I’ll tell-”

“On with it,” Ciel ordered. He pointed his cane at the bottle. “Children can be very hard to trust around new objects.”

“I’m sorry- I will.” Smithers gulped. “Mr. Galashiels came in at, oh, I don’t know, it was near three.”

He picked up his spectacles, the latter having fallen during Sebastian’s demonstration. Ciel tipped the cane in that direction.

“None of that. On with your story.”

“I’m sorry.” Smithers wrung his hands instead. “He- he asked me if there was a cure for heartache. I told him, I said, ‘my dear man, there is no tonic more soothing for a pained heart than time and good company.’ And he- he said to me, ‘I doubt I shall ever be in good spirits again- I have never known such company as good as hers.’ I knew then and there that he was smitten. I told him there were more good women out there, and all he’d said was, ‘no, Smithers, you’re mistaken, you ignorant blissful fool, if only you had known her, if only you had all known her.’ And that was the last he ever said to me.”

Ciel was silent as he lowered the cane, running the words through his head. Smithers didn’t seem to be a good liar so he would have to take his words for the truth. Then Galashiels really was a lovestruck fool of a Romeo. He’d taken nothing from the apothecary, save useless advice. Then that left the last clue- the woman he’d fallen for. _The parrot, I suppose._

“What a moving tale,” Sebastian said, obvious mirth in his eyes.

“It’s time for us to move as well.” Ciel eyed the apothecary once more. No, nothing new to note. “Good day, Mr. Smithers.”

As he turned, he heard Sebastian give a heartfelt, “thank you for your cooperation. You have our deepest gratitude.” Ciel resisted a snort.

* * *

The abode of Carter Galashiels was hardly a fitting place to match the Handen name. There were clerks who lived better than he. Ciel surmised his humble dwellings, two rooms, barely enough for a bedroom and study, and a tiny bathroom with an inconsistent tap. It was an ugly, dusty home, tinged with grey and filled with drunken noise from the squalid home below.

He briefly recalled Galashiels’ own landlady comment on her surprise that he was related to the Handen title. Now he understood.

The earl watched Sebastian shift through scattered papers on the dead man’s table, pull open drawers, and skim through half-inked journals. From the corner of his eye, Ciel caught a glimpse of the word “will.” If he had indeed left any such documents hanging about, Ciel supposed Galashiels’ death was certainly premeditated. _But what of his lawyer?_

“Anything of note, Sebastian?”

“Well, that would depend upon your definition, would it not, young master?”

“Hmph. Just tell me in plain words, you fool.”

After an irritating laugh, the butler answered. “Mr. Galashiels willed everything to a ‘most lovely Venus.’ But alas, never had the chance to sign away on these scripts.”

“Must be why they left these papers hanging about then. That or they mistook them for scribbles.”

“Yes, he was quite the poet according to the Times. But I am most disappointed with his work. He lacks finesse.” Sebastian held up the papers. “Crude, childish, hardly material worth publishing.”

“I could care less about your literary opinions. Now, the lovely Venus piques my interest.” Ciel stroked a chin in thought, feeling a vague sense of secondhand embarrassment for the passed Galashiels. “He named the bird Venus, didn’t he?”

“A parrot. But we mustn’t judge a man’s unique tastes in… women.” Sebastian uttered the last word with a wicked grin and Ciel grimaced, flashbacks of a female tiger coming to mind.

The boy considered sitting on the rickety bed but thought against it. He eyed a cobweb on the ceiling. This room would no doubt be rented off to some other young man too poor to care about Galashiels’ death. Either Galashiels had fallen out with his family and had his funds cut, or the family never had much to give in the first place. Or perhaps just his intermediate relatives- Lord Handen could be a cold noble- it wasn’t unheard of. But it had been quite some time since Ciel had seen the viscount.

He tried to think back. He’d met the man, perhaps once, twice, a few times by his predecessor’s side when he was too young to remember. But the earl’s own decorating ceremony was another matter. Handen had been there in quite a fine, though underwhelming, suit. Ciel had glimpsed him again at Weston College’s cricket championship, somewhere near the Scarlet Fox families. He had been wearing the same suit.

It clicked.

“The Galashiels are bankrupt,” the boy remarked, “all show and not a penny to the name. Carter Galashiels had attended Weston, like the rest of his men, and the shame was too much to bear.”

He nodded to himself. “Yes, that was what pushed him to Limehouse. Luckily for him, the call of Count D’s Pet Shop was stronger than the scent of opium…”

“And the parrot was the perfect balm for his aching soul,” Sebastian finished for him.

* * *

Lau scoured the streets, poking his head through every alley and open window he could find, bumping into several stray cats along the way. A Chinaman in bright floral green did not make for an inconspicuous figure, and he found to his dismay, that he had to contend with knocking over a few pickpockets on his path.

Ranmao was not mad at him. Stoic, introverted perhaps, but never emotional—he knew her as she knew him and she would not leave on the grounds of bitter feelings (for what, he did not know). And though she didn’t mind flaunting her figure, Ranmao was not an extravagant woman. She would not have simply left them for better prospects.

He wondered if perhaps she got tangled in a fight and wandered off into the city. _Now, what opponent could take you this far?_

Lau pondered his options as he ducked to avoid a butcher knife to the head. The assailant screamed his name, burly arms taking aim and swinging again. Backed into a brick wall, Lau could do nothing save dodge and let the knife rip into his sleeve.

He twisted as the other man reached for him, black whiskers brushing against his face, and let the sleeve tear off.

“Old Zhang, what’s this about?” he laughed, rolling away.

“You cheated me, boy!”

“Whaaa?”

In no mood for quipping, Zhang attacked again, taking a chunk of Lau’s hair off as he stabbed the air. Lau launched himself at the wall yet again and bounced off in a kick, tackling Zhang in the torso and throwing his own hand over the handle. The blade digging into the skin of his palm, Lau flipped, successfully sending Zhang’s head crashing into a pile of bricks.

He spun the knife and caught it by the handle. He whistled. “I’ll be keeping this. You won’t mind, will you?”

There was no reply. And Lau shivered in satisfaction as he imagined the knife plunging through the count’s pretty heart.

* * *

_Ciel sat atop his father’s shoulders, the man laughing beneath him as they marched through a vivid spring woodland, the landscape a picture of painted health. A black shape dove at them from above. Ciel started, tears frozen on his face._

_But that fear soon gave way to a familiar calm when the shoulders beneath his legs turned to wings. The great owl soared, Ciel on his back, and in one mighty swoop, swallowed the raven._

_Gratefully, Ciel hugged the owl’s short neck._

_“You want to be happy, master,” it said, “with those who love you.”_

_“It cannot be,” he told the owl._

_“I can help you. Forget this burden, master.”_

_“Burden- it’s too late for me.” He couldn’t let go now. He was too far in this web of lies and sin, too tarnished to possibly dream of happiness._

_“Not yet,” it hooted, “not yet.”_

_And then he slide off its back, dropping into a soft field of petals, no crow in sight._

And Earl Phantomhive slept on, troubles pushed to the back of his mind and replaced with thoughts of blooming lilacs.

* * *

Ciel picked at his biscuits in the greenhouse, collar stiff against the heat. Had it always been so hot in the room? It wouldn’t surprise him if the count’s gift had anything to do with it. Sebastian stood behind him, ready to refill his cup at a moment’s notice.

And the owl’s great cage stood in front, Kiki perched against its bars, head bobbing as he followed every move of Ciel’s hand.

“Would you like some, Kiki?” the boy asked dully.

“No, master.”

“Suit yourself.” Ciel bit into the treat, only then realizing he was not in the least bit hungry. He suspected hunger was overwhelmed by frustration. Count D was the culprit- he was positive now. But without substantial evidence, he couldn’t simply report this to Her Majesty. She herself suspected as much.

He scrunched his nose. _And that damnable smell_. The odor of decay made for a most unpleasant dining experience.

“You say you will obey me, unquestioning?” he said.

“Yes, master.”

Ciel put the half-eaten biscuit down, crumbs breaking against china. “Then tell me this, who is Count D?”

If he had an informant at his disposal, Ciel was going to use him, no matter how dubious.

“The count is a painter of forgotten songs,” Kiki said without pause, “a weaver of dreams and desire.”

“That’s not very specific, is it?” Sebastian chimed in.

The owl’s gaze steeled against the demon. He had always been tense around Sebastian- this was not lost on the earl. Ciel wondered if his pet had an agenda of its own. _All things have agendas. That is the nature of living_. He could not rely on Kiki to be exposed so long as the butler was near.

“Sebastian, leave us.”

The demon arched a brow. “Of course, young master.”

Kiki watched Sebastian clear his cart of trays and take his leave, eyes bulging as if they could will the demon gone through force alone. Left alone, Ciel drummed his hands against the round table. Should any harm befall him, Sebastian would not be far off. And the truth was he felt that he understood the owl well enough to know Kiki would not make any attempts on his life. Yet, at the very least.

“A fantastic storyteller, is he?” Ciel said, “what else does the count do?”

“He is a protector. And avenger.”

Kiki drawled the last word out and Ciel felt the hairs on his neck reluctantly stand on end. _Avenger_.

“A protector of what?”

“My kind,” Kiki said, uttering a slow hoot, “animals, nature, that which is taken for granted.”

Humans was not on the list. Ciel said nothing in return.

“And it is for us he takes revenge. For us and himself.”

 _Himself_. Ciel looked the owl in the eye, wondering if the creature could see into him as well. _For myself and nothing else_.

“You’re silent, master.” Kiki gently pushed his cage open. He stepped out, coming to bow in front of Ciel. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees and placed a head on the boy’s lap, feathery black hair ruffled against fabric.

“I have seen your dreams. You understand better than anyone- my beloved count seeks to end his shame and suffering, to wreak onto those that wronged him what they had wrought upon him.”

_To clear my shame._

Ciel bowed his head, unconsciously bringing his hands into Kiki’s rough hair. “What happened to him?” he muttered.

“He lost everything a long time ago- his home, his position, his people. This mission is all he has left. This mission and us.”

His people. Ciel had known the count was not human, but in these words, in this manner- it finally dawned on him what he was dealing with.

“And that is why we are tied to him.”

“Tied to me,” Ciel said.

Count D, the contract, his name- it all tied back to the young earl, lashing his being against an unrelenting sea. He had forsaken everything for his one goal, the one anchor that kept him tethered by a thread. And he wondered if perhaps he too had thrown away his very humanity for what was to come.

_Count D, who are you?_

* * *

“It’s not cute at all!” Elizabeth said in dismay, for what Ciel suspected was the third time.

She fixed a crown of roses above Ciel’s head, eyeing Kiki with disappointment, as if ashamed that her fiancée had such bad taste in purchasing pets. In the Phantomhive gardens, Finny chased butterflies behind them, head adorned with Elizabeth’s flower crown.

The rest of his staff, likewise waited on them with flower wreaths, made with Elizabeth’s affection for their otherwise gloomy household. Breathing in the sweet air, Ciel couldn’t help but smile.

“The young master seems to enjoy this new fashion, my lady,” Sebastian said as he bent to lower a tray of sandwiches for the couple to take.

Ciel shot him a blushing glare as Elizabeth nibbled away at her food, chatting away about how she and Paula stringed the floral crowns together. Taking nothing, Ciel crossed his arms, noting that Sebastian was given a crown of white roses, so fair they looked as if they would be stained black by his head.

“No matter! We can fix that,” Elizabeth said, rising and running over to where Kiki sat, his face brimming with confusion.

She hung a crown of sunflower petals over the owl’s head and Ciel bit back a bout of laughter when the owl blushed in frustration.

“Much better,” the girl said in triumph.

“Oh, he looks so happy with it!” Mey-Rin agreed, clapping her hands together as her crown of lilacs slipped off her head. “Oops!”

“Doesn’t look happy to me, says Wordsworth.” Snake tilted his head as he hid behind Tanaka, the steward sipping tea some ways from where the owl perched. “Look at how fat he’s gotten, says Emily.”

“Hm, what have you been feeding him, Ciel?” Elizabeth pinched Kiki’s cheek.

“He looks the same to me,” the boy replied with a furrowed brow.

“Emily’s right,” Finnian laughed, “Kiki’s a lot bigger now! We must be doing a good job.” Then he gasped. “You don’t think he’s eating birds again, do you?”

“I doubt it,” Sebastian said, casting Ciel a knowing glance.

 _And you didn’t think to tell me he got bigger?_ Seething, Ciel shook his head. What Kiki looked like to others was no concern of his. The owl was his pet and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Lau sat on the felled body of the last brute that tried to assault him, a laborer from the looks of it. At least the boy was carrying bread, albeit stale and narrow. No matter- he hadn’t eaten in two days. And Ranmao was still nowhere to be seen, though he was sure he knew where she was- it was just a matter of finding the right time to strike.

He hadn’t walked all the way to Limehouse for nothing.

From the alley behind, a spotted cat approached and nibbled at his remaining sleeve.

“Eh? Are you here to fight? This food’s mine.”

It mewled at his feet. He debated whether to finish the bread or not. With a sigh, he tossed the remains at the cat.

Watching it eat, he couldn’t help but say, “Lost my appetite anyway.”

* * *

_"Have you decided?” the great owl asked._

_Ciel lay in a blanket of leaves, his mother’s hand in his left and his father’s in his right, the sound of gay laughter ringing through the hair. He was grateful to the owl, for it had taken away the raven, but he had nothing else to say._

_“Master?”_

_“I don’t know- I’m sorry.”_

_Kiki was curled in front of him then, wings and beak gone. The youth took Ciel’s hand in his own and smiled, warm, caring, the one Ciel never wanted to let go._

_“Do not worry,” Kiki said, strong and firm._

_Ciel touched his unruly hair fondly._

**_“I’ll protect you.”_ **

_Olive became milk. He stared into the eyes of his own, sapphire and blinking, the perfect replica of who he once was, of who-_

_It was-_

_“What is this?” he whispered, snatching his hand away in horror, the likeness of himself rising to stand over him._

_“Think of what you lost,” it said in his voice, his voice, “what you will lose. Then decide. You must decide.”_

_It reached for him, and Ciel reeled back, overwhelmed with the memory of hands prying him away, a futile reach, a decision he could not stop._

“No!”

The Earl Phantomhive awoke in a sweat, hand stretched uselessly towards the ceiling.

* * *

Clutching his head, Ciel approached the green house, not bothering to use a stick of light. The darkness shielded him. Heart pounding in his rib cage, the boy entered. Kiki was not there.

His breath leaving in erratic heaves, the earl placed a hand on the cage door. He could not face such a thing again—he wanted it gone.

In a daze, he locked the cage.

* * *

Ciel erased the image of Sebastian’s infuriating smirk from his mind- the butler had been ordered to keep guard outside the pet shop’s door and keep the hansom occupied. This was a conversation he needed to have with the count alone.

“You killed them,” Ciel accused, not bothering to remove his hat, “I know you did.” _And you’re trying to kill me too._

“And here I was so happy to see you, Lord Phantomhive,” D said, eyes flashing with mirth, “is it customary for all Englishmen to accuse their vendors of murder?”

“Do you deny it?”

“There’s no point- you would not have it otherwise.”

It was as good a confession Ciel could get. The parrot hanging by the window eyed him. Ciel glared back. _Fighting with birds now, am I?_

“But what really brought this about?” D asked, folding hands under his hanging sleeves.

“Your pet. It’s acting out of turn. A servant should know its place.”

“And the rest of your staff does?” _Your demon does?_

“My staff knows when it’s gone too far. All of them.” _Including that blasted devil_. “Your owl does not. I am most dissatisfied with this trial.”

“Ah, but I did not sell you a _servant_ , Lord Phantomhive. Kiki is a companion, a friend, a pet in every sense of the word. Perhaps you should reevaluate your relationships.”

“Nevermind that!” Ciel snapped, “what could you possibly gain from all this? From Kiki and I? From those you murdered- you don’t lack for money and there is no power to come from this.”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” D said, removing a hand from his sleeve and tracing one long nail under his chin.

Ciel remembered Kiki’s words about the count. No, he had nothing to gain save a distant goal. That was why the count was a dangerous opponent, not for whatever powers he possessed, but for the simple fact that he and Ciel Phantomhive seemed one and the same.

“You of all people should understand, Lord Phantomhive.”

Begrudgingly, Ciel turned on his heels and stormed out of the shop. Similarities be damned, he would fell Count D at all cost.

* * *

_“Mother! Father! Anyone! Please help me!”_

_He was on a mountain of skulls, layered with the corpses of dead crows and as he sunk, a great skeleton of a bird tore at him, ripping the flesh from his bones and drinking his blood._

_His screams went unnoticed and the bird attacked, relentlessly, callously, furiously. He watched its beak tear his heart out, entrails looping in a string of pink and red. He was dying, he knew, and there was no one to save him._

_Not now. Not then. Not ever._

_He was dying._

_The owl pecked on._

* * *

“Young master?”

Ciel heard the butler’s voice through a sea of aches. He shivered, desperate to wrap himself in the sweat soaked blanket.

“Time to wake up, my lord. Come now, it’s most unbefitting for-”

He felt a gloved hand over his forehead. Ciel wanted him to go away, but he lacked the strength to open his eyes. Overcome with the urge to wretch, he coughed instead, a dry hack that betrayed phlegm.

The covers were yanked off in a panic and as he struggled to curl in on himself, Ciel felt Sebastian lift his body and drape him across his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and feel free to leave comments/kudos!
> 
> I hope you had fun with this chapter and that it suited the tone of both works. Shit really hits the fan next chapter for everyone involved.


	4. At night: Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope the climax of this story was worth it.

_He was in the cage again. Bruised hands gnawed at the rusting bars until their knuckles turned white. He clawed and scratched, backing away from the hands all the while. Laughter. The laughter rung in his ears, looping in and out like needles in his eardrums._

_Stop, please._

_Mother, Father, Tanaka- anyone, please- please-_

_Yellow eyes. They loomed over him, large and unyielding, a mass of bone and shadows. A mass of death. He shook his head in fear- no, please, no-_

_“This was a message, master,” the shadows whispered, grave and low, “the count’s trial is about to end.”_

_A claw reached for him and he tried to lift his hands toward it. Yes, if he could touch those talons, he could leave the cage, away from the pain, away from the laughter, away, away-_

_“Decide, master,” the ghost of a voice said, “I know what you really yearn now. You wish to be free from-”_

* * *

“Sebastian,” the earl gasped.

He awoke in a sweat, mismatched eyes meeting the grey morning sky in a haze, his body bundled in a black cloak. The demon’s arms were around him, larger body shielding him from the incoming winds. Ciel wanted to struggle against him, but failed to find the strength.

“Young master,” the butler said, “how are you feeling?”

Ciel grimaced before letting out a wet cough. He shook his head. “I’m… I’m cold,” was all he managed before another spasm struck his chest.

“Bear with the pain a little longer, my lord. We’re bringing you to Count D.”

_Count D?_

He heard the whinnying of horses. From the corner of his eye, Ciel saw Kiki by Sebastian’s shoulder, dancing through the skies as the demon opened the door to the Phantomhive carriage. He felt himself passed from one set of hands to another.

“Smile, hang on, says Wilde.”

The door closed. He assumed Sebastian filled himself into the driver’s seat. And as the ground began to bob, Ciel shut his eyes, the image of Kiki flying through the clouds in his head. Kiki and his feral nobility, his sharp eyes- Kiki, the bird of prey.

Ciel shuddered and once again gave in to nothing.

* * *

Through layers of water, Ciel heard mutters or shouts of a vaguely familiar language. Was it foreign? Where were they? He had heard it before. The Opium Den. He was about to call Lau’s name when he remembered what Sebastian had said.

“Mind the carriage.”

“I will, says Oscar.”

They were in Limehouse and Snake was passing him back to Sebastian. He was so weak he couldn’t think of the words to complain. Always being passed from one set of hands to another, a pawn on the board- that was what being a Phantomhive meant. He would never know freedom, no, not as long as he held that name, lived this life. The Queen, the demon, the Count, he was never free. Perhaps he would never be.

He heard a flutter of wings. Kiki had landed. Ciel lifted his eyes in a Herculean effort and saw the owl exchange glares with Sebastian.

“You did this,” the butler hissed none too gently.

“He chose to abide the contract. You of all people would know.”

And then they were in that room of red and wood, Count D’s Pet Shop. The animals were circling them, or were they simply shadows? Ghosts? He couldn’t tell- they were all blurs to his failing vision.

“What a sorry state you’re in, Lord Phantomhive!” exclaimed a voice with feigned surprise. Sebastian said something in reply, too fast for Ciel to catch.

The count was the only figure Ciel could see clearly, radiant even among all those blurs, inhumanly beautiful, and the embodiment of poisoned silk. The boy could only cough in reply. Long nails brushed his sweat-matted hair. D pursed his lips, tilted his head in thought, and said, “Butler, put him on the chaise-lounge. He’s quite pale indeed.”

Ciel felt Sebastian set him down- this was what he had wanted and yet- his hands clutched the butler’s uniform, refusing to let go. “Young master, relax.”

He heard a chuckle and felt D pry him from Sebastian with surprising strength. Then he was lying before them, struggling for breath, and more helpless than he had ever felt. Gloved hands unbuttoned his shirt, Sebastian’s familiar touch against his ribs. Then a slender finger prodded his chest, sharp at its tip, as if ready to break skin at any moment. The count.

“This is bad indeed, Lord Phantomhive. I have seen many illnesses in my lifetime and I cannot say yours is any new. I am afraid you are dying, earl.”

Ciel stared up at him, slack-jawed, processing what had just been said.

“ _Dying?_ ” Sebastian nearly growled.

He heard a wet laugh, his own. _How does it feel, demon, to know you lost my soul? At least we lost this game together_. The boy clenched his fists- he did not want to die this way, by Count D’s hand. He simply couldn’t, no matter how much spite it brought upon Sebastian. He could not end the Phantomhive line so simply, so ironically, so quickly.

“I sell desires,” D mused, “never anything a customer would not need. But ah, you’re an arrogant little boy, aren’t you?”

He smirked, pretty lashes fluttering. “Lord Phantomhive, I told you not to lock Kiki’s cage.” He exchanged glances with the owl, the latter’s face still as stone. “You cheated the contract and should be ready to pay the price.”

Ciel forced himself up, grabbing Sebastian’s arm for support. Fighting back gasps of breath, he shot a reply through grit teeth. “What price?”

D brushed his own hair back and offered another eerily loving smile. “You Englishmen never ask for all the details. It’s most unfortunate. Allow me to explain, Lord Phantomhive.” He glanced at the owl.

“Kiki is my nickname for the Kikiyaon, a traveler between the spirit and physical realms. In his homeland, he was known as the soul cannibal. A rare sight he is indeed- you are fortunate to have seen his true form, Lord Phantomhive, or-” he chuckled, “most unfortunate. Those who have seen him in all his glory soon die of sickness and shock.”

“Ah, I was curious as to what that owl was,” Sebastian said, an amused glint in his eyes, “unlike anything I have ever encountered. This is most fascinating.”

“I’m glad you can appreciate my pet.” D folded his hands back into his sleeves. “Even if his goals interrupt your own.”

 _So you knew about us, count_. Ciel glowered. _You always knew_.

“How so?” Sebastian asked in that same smooth tone, though Ciel could detect a hint of a threat on his tongue.

“We both desire his soul,” Kiki said, coming to stand by the count.

Then, as if on cue, his eyes glowed red, slits of yellow within. He rose in height, soon towering above the count, and that youthful mouth curved into a hardened beak. Talons broke free from his limbs and a mighty pair of feathered wings took the place of his arms. Dark wild feathers stretched from his head downwards and when that beak opened, rows of razor teeth shone.

“ _But I bit him first_ ,” the Kikiyaon said, his voice a guttural mass of echoes.

And that stench enveloped him, the smell of death. This was the owl in his dreams. The dreams. The cage. It all clicked within the boy’s mind in that instant.

“I’m not like the rest of your hapless victims,” Ciel said lowly, glaring at the count. He held back a cough and lifted his hand. He felt his right eye burn. “Sebastian, this is an order. Defeat the Kikyaon and capture Count D!”

The demon’s back entered his vision. “Yes, my lord.” _With pleasure_ , was the unspoken end.

Ciel fell once more into a fit of coughs as the pets in the shop rallied. He heard a cacophony of squawks and roars, the animals taking their stand by their master. No, their _god_. That must have been what the count was. Not the laughing darkness of a demon, nor the sad mystery of a grim reaper, but the unchallenging calm of a vengeful god.

Kiki’s wings flapped as Sebastian charged, the owl and the raven blending in a swirl of a grey and black, cutting winds through the shop. Count D stood in the midst of it all, hair and robes flying in all directions. And nothing passed his face save a taunting amusement. A knife struck the ceiling.

Sebastian pushed himself off a wall and threw a handful of silver knives at the Kikiyaon. The latter crushed the weapons in his beak and spat the pieces out, the edge of a broken blade nicking the count in the cheek. If anything, that streak of blood pleased him more. Ciel tried to focus on the battle, on Sebastian’s increasingly quick movements, the clash of silver and talon, glove and wing, red and red, but he was in too much of a daze to concentrate.

The giant beak clamped down, the demon using both arms to pry it open.

The pain rose within him again. _I bit him first_. The earl fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. He hurled. Again. And again.

This was unlike any pain he had ever undergone. He shuddered, muscles contracting against his will- the closest he had ever felt to such a pain was only an inkling of what was to come, back in his gas-induced daze, caught in the demon’s tendril grip. It was the pain of a wounded soul. And it was unadulterated agony.

He was dying. He was the prey. And he was dying.

Ciel stretched a hand towards Count D, as if some thread of life would be offered, as if he could fight the count one last time simply by reaching.

“Are you ready, Lord Phantomhive?” D asked, understanding, haughty, victorious.

_Ready?_

Kiki knocked Sebastian to the side with another rush of his wings. With a cry, the owl swooped down on the earl, talons poised, teeth shining, beak parted. And Ciel fell back with a push of air, the breath stolen from his lungs.

He struck the floor in that instant, the world twisting every which way before fading to black and back. He heard the familiar tearing of flesh, felt the splash of blood, and a flash of silent pain, the worst he had ever been forced to endure.

Then nothing.

* * *

A breath.

The boy heaved. Again and again until he could drink the odorous air.

There was blood. Ciel gagged on the stench, lungs momentarily clearing to allow him the energy to move. Too weak to do more, he forced open his eyes, sight meeting his own hand lying on the floor. He lifted his head in an effort to get away from the vomit and dribble.

A splattering of blood trailed from his line of sight, almost never ending as it snaked up the owl’s claws. It was wine red, nearly black under shadows. He continued staring, transfixed, before realizing he was unharmed.

In spite of the bruises, in spite of his wreck of a body, in spite of the lead that replaced his brain, he was unharmed. He lifted his head.

Stammering, he opened his mouth and said, “S- Sebas…”

_Sebastian?_

Mismatched eyes bulged, struggling to find the bearer of that name. Sebastian lay in the midst of that trail, a pile of torn flesh and clothing. He was still, hair fanned out and streaked with red, lids shut, lips smeared with his own blood.

“Sebastian,” he continued whispering meekly.

The demon’s innards were strung about the floor, broken ribs poking out of his chest, body barely in tact. He looked like a discarded marionette, chewed raw by a canine and left in crimson mud. He was a smear of red on the ground with the head of a man. He was-

This was not the first time he had seen Sebastian lying on the ground.

“Get,” he coughed, “get up.”

And instead of the demon’s voice, he heard the count’s. D hovered over him, a look of innocent surprise on his porcelain face. “I must say, Lord Phantomhive, I hadn’t expected this outcome. How interesting.”

Ciel’s vision was clearing. He put a trembling hand against his right eye- it was lighter, cool, almost cold for once. He had been so used to the sensation of warmth in it, the invisible weight that chained him down, since that fateful night. And now it was gone.

“You do have rather exquisite eyes for a human,” D said, “bluer than the plumes of a sapphire phoenix.” He clapped his hands. “Congratulations, Lord Phantomhive, you’re free!”

Free?

Kiki nodded, the demon’s blood still dribbling from his mouth. “ _I am modest. It does not matter what spirit I consume. Your servant paid the price. You are free from my grip,_ Ciel _Phantomhive_.”

“How wonderful, earl,” the count said, as if relaying the weather over tea, “you may keep your soul on both counts. A blessed deal indeed.”

He was free. The contract broken- both contracts. But the bargain wasn’t finished. He held up a hand, imagining Sebastian reaching back, some strange nightmare he had finally woken from. And yet- he turned towards the owl.

“Why?” he mouthed.

Why what?

But Kiki knew. He had tasted a piece of the boy’s soul- the Kikiyaon would know the clearest of all.

 _“Because he could. He did it because he could. That is what a beast does. There is no deeper meaning._ ”

Ciel could not reply.

“Leave him be, Kiki,” the count said, bending over Sebastian. “These organs are fresh. And demon organs are in such short supply- these will fetch a rare price indeed. It’s aged too, all the better.”

Ciel rolled onto his side. Coughing silently, he forced himself to crawl forward, mind as numbed as his body.

“I’ll admit this demon did an excellent job with his skin.”

Ahead, sharp nails dragged over the butler’s pallid face. “We should peel it and sell to the highest bidder.”

Ciel inched towards the count and-

“Kiki, lend me a talon,” D said, “I think it best to start with the scalp.”

He shouted, voice cracking into a wheezing screech:

“ _Stop it!_ ”

He pounded the ground until his knuckles spouted blood. “Stop it!” Again and again, he banged. “Stop it! Damn you!”

_Stop talking about him as if he was nothing more than a piece of meat._

_Stop talking of such things._

_Stop doing this in front of me._

_Stop._

_Stop._

_Stop!_

Ciel collapsed in his own shadow, chest heaving for breath, the count’s feet at his head. Silk robes wrinkled as D crouched before him, one hand cupping the boy’s chin, his other tracing the lid of his right eye.

“Stubborn even to the end, I see,” the count sighed, “what is it you truly want, earl? Your soul is free, what more could you want?”

“I…” He tried to turn away, but D kept him rooted to the spot with an iron grip. _Sebastian- no, Kiki- I-_

D made a noise of disdain. “I don’t know what that demon saw in you, Lord Phantomhive. But I suppose I could never understand the tastes of a creature like that.”

And for the first time, Ciel saw what passed as disgust in the count’s golden eyes, akin to a glimpse of pure hatred. “I suppose he appreciated your ruthlessness? Your determination? Your desperation? So much humanity in you. All the components of a worthless soul, a worthless life.”

D chuckled, once more silencing Ciel’s reply. “Ferocity, cunning, relentlessness and cowardice. That is what I hate about you humans. How absolutely _dull_ all of you are.”

The count pulled his hand away and Ciel fell to the ground once more, head bruising. He forced himself up yet again and shakily said, “You asked me what I wanted… I want-”

D did not turn back. Ciel scraped at the ground; yes, of course he wouldn’t turn back. _I know what you think of me, of us_. The pet shop’s victims did not die by the count’s hand, but he let them fall with glee, for he felt nothing for Ciel’s kind, nothing save that look of disgust.

But he couldn’t lose here, not like this.

“I want my butler... Please, count, don’t let him die-”

His voice was trembling, a lump betraying the back of his throat. He heard the pleads in his own voice, weaker each time. Earl Phantomhive never begged. That could not be him. And yet-

_You damn demon! Damn you! Damn you!_

D knelt by Sebastian for the second time, as if inspecting the demon’s body for unharmed flesh. He prodded through layers of ruined fabric until his digits touched a strip of a waistcoat. The count narrowed in his eyes in thought before turning towards Ciel at last.

He pointed a blood-stained finger at the boy and said gravely, “Then cry, Lord Phantomhive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always! And feel free to leave kudos/comments! The story wraps up next time.


	5. At midnight: Damnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! But the final chapter of this fic is finally up!

“It’s for the best, your majesty,” Earl Grey muttered, doing his best to sound sincere as the Queen sobbed into Phipps’ handkerchief.

“Yes, you have shared many a fine moment together,” Phipps said, a comforting hand on her majesty’s back while she cradled the ill pheasant, Albert trying in vain to chirp.

“I can’t bear to lose you again,” Victoria whispered between sobs, pressing the count’s bird against her bosom as if she could revive it with grief alone.

 _When will that bloody thing die?_ Grey sighed, squatting by the monarch and offering a sympathetic hand. And still, he couldn’t help but meet the pheasant’s eyes, ever piercing, some immortal spirit within.

“Oh Albert…,” the Queen sobbed, “oh Albert…”

* * *

He was floating, or perhaps falling, over a never-ending cataclysm of mist, so dry and thick that it clogged his throat and left him gasping for air that would never come. It was dark, cold, and blazing hot, the familiar essence of hell engulfing him all around. And under it all, he felt himself melt, limbs giving way to that merciless mist, vision sinking into nothing but black.

The pain had long since gone and he lacked the energy to do anything but wait. The dark would push him down soon enough and swallow him whole. Then there would be nothing left to torment him. But a vague dissatisfaction still churned within him, like some needly voice telling him to swim against the mist.

He wanted to. With burning desire, he wanted to obey and rise, without a thought for what lay behind or ahead. But he could only sink.

A slash of light pierced the fog clouding his eyes. Helpless, he lay and watched the mist turn gold, paling into yellow as a shadow hovered above him. It loomed, then blurred, and melted into the shape of a man.

Amber eyes glowed before him, familiar, taunting, and burning gold.

Count D.

Who was Count D? He felt his body tremble, nude skin regaining sensation as his limbs went solid. And he breathed, lungs fresh with vitality. The mist cradled his head in its tendrils, entering his form in every way, and as it lifted him towards the pretty figure, he remembered.

Count D, and all that followed, and all before.

“You,” he tried to say, but felt blood come out, gushing from the corners of his open mouth.

D bent and dabbed the blood away with a sleeve. And smirking, he mused, “Don’t speak here, demon. You’re in a most terrible state.”

The devil sputtered, blood splashing over the delicate sleeve, and looked down. His body was bare, ashen white under layers of mist, and ruined all the same. He saw the claw marks that ravaged otherwise smooth skin, with rips and tears that made him look like a butcher’s cut. He was in shambles and Count D had come to taunt his pitiful fall.

“We may never meet again,” the count went on, polite and calm, that smile never once reaching his eyes, “so allow me to satisfy your curiosity. I am a benefactor, a protector, of nature, as was my father, and his before. Mankind turned on us, and so, we turned on them. I am all that remains of us now, and then my son after.”

He dragged a nail over the demon’s cheek, drawing a thin line of blood as the latter coughed, thick and wet. “You see, demon, I am considered a god. Not the grim reapers you and Lord Phantomhive know so well. I am a performer of miracles, a weaver of stories, a man of worship.”

Then the count began carding fingers through the demon’s hair. “You did a marvelous job on this body. A shame I won’t be able to work from it. Ah, I don’t suppose I’ll ever understand this contract of yours. But a creature as savage as you, I doubt your mind can even grasp what that boy has done.”

And he chuckled, sweet as bells while the devil suffered on. “A primitive beast is what you are, demon, and I do believe the only creature lower than you is man himself. At least you’re aware of your shortcomings.”

D removed his hand and held up the wrist before sinking his teeth into a vein. Blood dribbled from his chin as he dragged the wounded hand away and let it linger over the demon’s chest. The blood trickled downwards and splashed over his body. Near grinning, the count watched him writhe and hiss, injuries charring as the blood burnt flesh.

Every drop of blood sunk into him like a bullet, rooting itself in his body and springing out in the form of a budding rose. His scream was overshadowed by a bout of coughing as the roses bloomed atop him, burying him in a garden of blossoms, each petal redder than the last. And trapped in such agony he could do nothing but scream, the demon looked to the count with burning eyes.

“These wounds will seal now. Because for a child like your master,” D said, “shedding tears is irrevocably worse than shedding blood. And demon, however undeserving you may be, now, he cries for you.”

In each blossom was the sting of salt.

* * *

_They had gone to see the boats, mother, father, Tanaka, and-_

_But he was left alone, feeling rather forgotten as the maids fussed about him, the docile, sickly son. A boy short of eight, he pressed his nose against the manor’s great glass window, hoping that his father would come back. They would all stroll back through the doors and take him along._

_“I do wish we could stay with him,” husband had said to wife, “but this is an obligation I can’t afford to miss. You know how the old lady gets-”_

_“I know. And he only just recovered,” mother had said with a twinge of sorrow,_ him _smiling in her lap, father standing by her side._

_And he, the one left behind, had eavesdropped through a crack in his bedroom door, heart clenched with blinding disappointment. And now it was raining, pouring so hard he knew they would not return by the night’s end._

_Sniffling, the boy sat by the stairs, a lump in his small throat. He raised a fist to wipe the tears when a wetness pressed against his arm. He looked down and saw the canine’s stark black head, silky fur near painted against its noble bearing._

_“Sebastian,” he said._

_The dog made a low noise, nudging its head against his leg. The boy put both hands around its neck and buried his head over the dog’s own._

_“Even if everyone’s gone,” he hiccuped, “you shall never leave me, will you?”_

_Sebastian barked._

_The boy felt a sob twist into a giggle as he clung onto the pet, Sebastian curling protectively around him while a bout of thunder rolled outside._

_“This is an order,” the boy said, “never leave me.”_

* * *

The demon’s eyes fluttered open, Ciel’s head looming above. The earl watched his butler release a gasp of breath and felt his own quivers stop from the relief alone. Sebastian lay still on the ground, head cradled in Ciel’s own lap, the demon’s blood staining his fine clothes.

But the Earl of Phantomhive was simply too tired to care. Dry tear stains clung to his cheeks, the stench of vomit and sweat all but caking him from head to toe. Ciel felt as if he would loosen his hold on this plane and hit the floor any moment, but the moment never came. Instead, his shivers had gradually subsided and save a dim ache in his chest and throat, he was a world away from the threshold of death he had been lying across not so long ago.

“Young master?” Sebastian rasped, eyes clouded with confusion.

Suddenly filled with an unbearable rage, Ciel let his hand fly out and smack the demon across the cheek, the devil’s head snapping along.

“Don’t you dare,” the boy whispered, “don’t you dare leave me again.”

 _I shall never cry for you again_ , was the unspoken swear. He hated this weakness, hated it in himself, hated it in both of them, and hated most the fact that he did not resent Count D for the mere reason that he let butler and master live on. This was the thread Ciel Phantomhive had clung to for the past three years and even as it stretched and unraveled, he held on with a steady hand. And like that thread, he clutched his demon, so sure that he would come to regret this childish weakness but helpless against this folly all the same.

The count stood over them, looking on in contemplation as he dangled silver from a chain- the very pocketwatch he had taken from the butler’s shredded clothing, the very one Tanaka had gifted him so long ago.

“You should consider yourself lucky, butler,” D said, “if not for this little thing, there would have been nothing left of you to save.”

Ciel lowered his gaze, eyes tracing the clear skin on Sebastian’s side, the one area Kiki’s swipe hadn’t ruined. He knew the count’s words to be true; if not for that one undamaged piece of flesh, the demon would have died on the spot and neither his tears nor D’s blood would have had anything to revive.

“It’s an interesting pocket protector, I’d say,” the count continued, tossing the watch on the ground with a curve of his lips, “how interesting that a simple contraption like this saved a creature like you… how very interesting.”

Bloodied fingers twitching, Sebastian fruitlessly reached for the watch as the earl again met D’s gaze.

“Count,” the boy said, “what would you have us do now?”

“Lord Phantomhive,” D replied, fidgeting with his sleeves, “all I ask is you uphold _this_ contract of yours. If nothing else, I admire your loyalty to one pet at least.”

Then the count flicked his eyes on the butler, removing a slit wrist from his sleeve. He smiled. “And you demon, congratulations. You’ve fed on the blood of a god.”

The Kikiyaon came forward, nestling its large head in the crook of the count’s neck, D himself dwarfed to a child’s size by the great owl. But it did little to bother the count. Still clinging to his butler, Ciel felt the familiar burn of hellfire as the contract again branded his eye. Blinking back tears and blood, he wrapped his fingers around Sebastian’s own and closed them around the pocketwatch.

“The contract between you and I is terminated, Lord Phantomhive,” D said, stroking the Kikiyaon’s feathers with a steady hand, “Kiki will let you walk free.”

And like that, the illness was no more. Ciel felt a gasp burst from his chest of its own accord, shivers subsiding as he felt his soul again join whole.

“But do remember my words,” that smooth tone said again.

Refreshed blood pounding in his head, Ciel felt his free hand instinctively reach for his right eye, an order for destruction on his tongue. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to silence the count’s taunts, but the demon caught his gaze. Weakly, Sebastian shook his head.

_Not here, young master, not now._

Ciel could only nod, all thoughts flushed out of his head. Then a thick air filled his nostrils, incense flooding the room with an aroma so strong he could no longer smell blood or the like. The smoke clouded them, covering boy and demon until they could see nothing but themselves, and eventually, not even that.

And the count’s chuckle grew dimmer and dimmer until it was but a breath of wind.

When the mist began to clear, Ciel made out three figures standing before him, nude as Adam: a blonde woman, a dark haired man, and an elderly gent, all staring on with slit-like eyes. And somehow, he felt not an ounce of fear.

“Emily, Oscar, Goethe,” he whispered, or perhaps dreamed himself saying.

He was so sure of what he saw. And when the tendrils of incense at last cleared, he found himself still on the floor clutching Sebastian’s hand, both lying on the familiar carpet of Phantomhive manor.

“Smile! Black!” he heard Snake yell, three pets gathered on the footman’s arm.

The boy shut his eyes, and he was sure Sebastian no doubt did the same.

* * *

“ _I don’t understand_ ,” Kiki said, eyeing the spot where Lord Phantomhive and his demon had disappeared, “ _count, you who hates his kind so much, why show that child such compassion?_ ”

Licking the blood from his wrist, D turned an amused eye on the owl. “You say I show compassion? No, Kiki, what I did was very cruel.”

He smiled, equal bits serene and harsh, before saying, “But it’s been forever since another has interested me so. And it’s only fair that we end Lord Phantomhive’s contract with you-”

“ _Count_ …”

Those hands again entered the patterned sleeves. D sighed, humored. “Because his own pet brings him as much misery as it is.”

* * *

The city smog did not make for a pleasant combination with the incoming sea air, but English odors never did much to phase Lau. He crouched by the loading cargo, narrowed eyes trained on the figure just now entering the dock. In a tall hat, Count D walked on with graceful steps, opera cloak flowing behind him. He carried a caged parakeet in one hand and a leather suitcase in the other.

Dressed as he was, there was little to distinguish the count from any other well-to-do Englishman, but Lau would recognize the gait of the man’s walk anywhere. And that beautiful face of his was hard to forget- it was a waxen face befitting of a porcelain doll. And Lau would give anything to smash that porcelain into a thousand pieces.

D rounded the high crate and Lau pounced, wrapping an arm around the count’s throat as he pressed a stolen revolver against D’s skull.

“Where’s Ranmao?” he growled.

“Master Lau,” D said amiably, “what a coincidence. But I’m afraid I have to be on my way. I have a steamboat to catch before it leaves for the Americas, and you do know how these American sailors get.”

“Oy, I asked you a question!”

“So soon to cut to the chase, Master Lau? I thought you were rather bad at keeping up with current subjects.”

“D, don’t test me,” the man hissed, one eye open, “take me to her or… I’m gonna blow your brains out. How’s that for a deal?”

The count smirked. “Very well. Follow me.”

D eased out of Lau’s grip and gestured at the building behind the dock.

“And I must add,” the count said, “you look terrible.”

Lau grunted in reply as D took the lead. He knew how disheveled he looked, stained with dust and dried blood, and only one sleeve to boot. He hadn’t bothered looking at his hair, but he was sure it looked as pretty as the rest of him. _So Ranmao’s gone and I become this? Ah ah ah, how funny._

D stopped and tapped his foot, toes pointing at a litter of cats in a wooden box.

“Eh?”

“Come, Master Lau, take your pick. Then you can leave with dear Ranmao.”

Lau stooped by the box, knowing full well this was ridiculous to do, but days of hunger and desperation had driven him to believe more than a few ridiculous things. And the count was certainly no human man. Besides, it wasn’t his first time dealing with such an encounter. And so, Lau spat on the ground and scanned the box of cats.

They meowed and purred, growling and clawing in turn for attention. Brown fur, spotted orange, striped grey, pure black, white Persian- cats of every shape seemed to fill that litter. But his eyes chose to meet the gaze of a lithe black cat, its fur so shiny it was near navy, almost blue. The eyes were amber, a shade darker than the count’s own, and as intense as they came. He would know that gaze anywhere.

Lau reached down and scooped the cat out with both arms, settling its warm weight in his embrace.

“Little sister,” he whispered.

He nestled his face in the cat’s head and when he dipped up, found only a young woman in his grip, Ranmao looking the same as she did the day she entered the count’s shop, clothes and all.

“Count-”

“He’s gone,” Ranmao said.

Lau looked around and saw only thin air. The box remained and the dock worked on, but Count D had disappeared.

* * *

The last of Albert’s fiery plumes fell out and all that remained was a greyed pheasant in his place, ever elegant but a far cry from the great bird her majesty had loved so. Grey and Phipps stood behind the grieving queen, her fresh tears still spilling over Albert’s corpse.

“Your majesty,” Phipps said, offering a new handkerchief, “let us find the count again and-”

“No,” Victoria replied with a sad smile.

She gave him her thanks and dabbed at her eyes, gaze locked on the once beautiful bird. “It was for the best… this, all of this was just an illusion anyway.”

Grey sighed in relief, glad the queen had finally regained her senses.

“But I do wonder,” the Queen said softly, eyes turned toward the glass window, “what would have happened if lies became truth.”

“That, I do not know,” Phipps answered.

 _Neither do I_. Grey looked to the window as well, sunlight filtering in and shedding its gold over the late pheasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this! 
> 
> Given recent events in the manga, I'm glad I had foresight and decided to throw in 2CT hints in this story haha. But I'm going to have this fic take place between the Green Witch and Blue Sect arcs, so those hints had to stay hints. As for (Grandpa) Count D, I imagine he'd go to New York after this and have more pet shop adventures before his son and grandson are born.
> 
> That being said, I'll be taking a break from Kuro long-shots for a while, so this might be last multichapter fic for a while. Again, thank you all for supporting this story and giving it a chance!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! For those of you who have read both works, I hope you found that as enjoyable as I did writing it. Kudos/comments are more than welcome!


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